by Serena Janes
“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep, and I like watching you,” she said as she got up and climbed in beside him. “It’s still hard for me to believe you’re here.” She snuggled against his warm flesh, wanting to make love again. He kissed her, then began to run his hands over her silky nightgown.
This time they came together like an explosion. It was over before Jo knew what had happened. One minute she was exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue, then the next thing she knew he was heavy and panting on top of her, his cock still pulsing inside her. But it was over. The sheet underneath her was wet, her nightgown was torn, and she was covered in sweat, her own rhythmic contractions taking their own sweet time to die away.
He rolled off to spoon her, and she fell asleep in his arms.
* * * *
Luc didn’t fall back to sleep right away. Holding Joanna was a miracle, and he felt too much to allow himself to slide back into forgetfulness. She was everything he’d remembered, and somehow much more. He didn’t want to ever let her go.
She said she loved him. Her words and actions seemed proof, he supposed, but could he trust them? How could he know? He was afraid of being hurt again.
Then he smiled at himself, for his foolishness.
Here I am, exactly where I wanted to be. It doesn’t get any better than this. She said her heart was open to me. I need to open mine to her.
Otherwise, what’s the point?
He kissed a sleeping Joanna between her shoulder blades and lay with his nose pressed against her shoulder until the dawn light.
Sometime later he was woken by the sound of the shower running. Just as he decided to join her, the sound stopped and Joanna walked into the bedroom in her red-flowered robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. He thought he’d never seen such a beautiful woman as he watched her sit down beside him and lean over to kiss him lightly on the lips. Her eyes were shining.
“Good morning,” she said simply, running her fingers along the stubble on his cheek.
Had two words ever conveyed so much love? He reached over to pull the back of her hand to his lips, kissing it. “Good morning to you, my ravishing one. What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
“Really! That’s the most sleep I’ve had in months,” he said. “And I feel great.” He stretched his body in the bed, enjoying the sensation. Yes, he was pretty relaxed. “It’s my turn for a shower, and then I’m going to ravish you some more,” he said as he threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom.
“Don’t forget to shave, this time!” she called after him. “I’ve got a serious case of whisker burn.”
As he soaped himself Luc noticed the jacuzzi tub in the corner of Joanna’s bathroom. It was flanked by tall windows overlooking a park. He didn’t know how he could have missed it last night. He could hardly wait to get Joanna into it.
But first, he wanted to eat.
“What’ve you got for food? I’m starving,” Luc said as he walked damp and barefoot into Jo’s kitchen. She was just setting up the espresso machine, and he grabbed her around the waist and hugged her so hard she let out a little squeal.
“Well, what do you want? I’ve got everything,” she said, opening the fridge.
It was packed. He rifled through, touching everything he saw. “Milk, cream, lots of cheeses, juice, ham, shrimp, sausage, olives… how many kinds of yogurt do they make in Canada anyway? And look at all of these vegetables. Mushrooms—and let’s see—eggplant, zucchini, peppers. Is this basil?” he asked, holding up a plastic bag of greens.
“It is.”
“Great! I’ll make us a beautiful frittata. You have eggs?”
“Of course. I keep them at room temperature, like you French taught me.” Jo laughed.
“Very good. And tomatoes? Olive oil?”
Luc hadn’t felt like cooking for so long that he laughed, too, at his own enthusiasm.
Jo set the table and within half an hour they were gorging themselves.
Then it was back to bed.
* * * *
It was a week of excess. Too much sex, too much wine and food and talking and sharing and kissing and touching and dancing and sleeping curled together like children. It was as if they both wanted to cram enough of being together to last them a lifetime, Jo sometimes thought. It was the best week of her life.
They didn’t talk about the past. They didn’t mention a future. And, unlike their time in France, this time they didn’t use condoms. Jo couldn’t remember discussing it, but they must have agreed that whatever he had was hers. Whatever she had was his. Nothing mattered but being together.
They rolled through the days always in the perpetual present, desire never sated, often completely silent except for expressions of pleasure. Sex was no longer about orgasms. They, too, no longer mattered. Their love-making was an attempt to fuse themselves into a single being. One that could never be separated, despite time and distance. They were the first man and the first woman, naked in their penthouse garden, oblivious to the city humming around them.
The first time they managed to put on some clothes and go outside, Jo found a basket of muffins outside her door.
“They’re from Louise,” she told Luc. “How thoughtful of her. She’s probably been imagining what it would be like to have a French lover of her own.”
They tried to explore the city. It was fine weather, and Vancouver looked her best. But they couldn’t bear to be away from their private paradise.
Once they jogged around the sea wall at Stanley Park, attracting admiring glances from the other runners. The next day they took the little ferry across the inlet to the Granville Market to buy more groceries and some souvenirs for Anna and Daniel.
One night they walked downtown for dinner and ended up doing a little bar-hopping, drinking so much champagne they had to take a taxi home. But most nights they stayed in and cooked together. Neither wanted to share the other with anyone, even for a moment.
Some afternoons they went downstairs to the lap pool in Jo’s building and swam, chasing and frolicking like seals together, always ending up in the hot tub wrapped around each other. That’s where they met Dimitri, another one of Jo’s neighbors, wearing his trademark skimpy black swimsuit, a leathery tan and too much gold.
He seemed down in the mouth when Jo introduced him to Luc, and went upstairs almost immediately afterwards.
“He’s been waiting me out,” she explained, in a whisper, “hoping I’ll eventually crack out of desperation and agree to go out with him.”
Luc kissed her giggles away, and seeing that they had the pool room to themselves began to make love in to her in the steaming water.
But Jo interrupted the game. She had something serious to discuss with her lover.
“I know we’ve got only two and a half more days together, my love, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to go into the office tomorrow.”
“Of course. I understand, mon Cherie,” he said, nuzzling her cleavage. “I can amuse myself. Maybe I’ll get a haircut,” he said as he pulled at the dark locks that were beginning to curl down the back of his neck.
“Uh, okay. But that’s not all.”
He looked up sharply, as if anticipating bad news.
“My boss is coming up from Seattle for a few days. And she wants to meet you.” Jo mumbled these last words, eyes down.
“Okay,” Luc said carefully. “Is that a problem?”
Jo looked up quickly. “Not really, I guess. If you’re fine with it. But I’d rather not.”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Tell me why.”
Jo sighed. She looked into the sweetest, kindest, most loving, sexiest dark blue eyes she’d ever seen and kissed his mouth for maybe the four thousandth time. She wanted to tell him, but was afraid it would spoil their week. “Maybe later. Okay? Let’s go up.”
Jo was not looking forward to being reunited with her boss/best friend when she got ready for the office
the next day. Luc sat in bed, drinking espresso and watching her dress. She chose a set of ecru lingerie, then a semi-sheer cream silk shirt and narrow jersey skirt in pearly grey. Her shoes were grey suede with a medium heel, her jewelry all heavy sliver. When she came out of her bathroom all made up and her hair styled, he let out a low whistle.
“You look exquisite, mon amor. Absolutely perfect.” He sprang off the bed, and, completely naked, pulled her body into his. She laughed at his arousal, finding it hard to believe he was ready to go again after their morning bout of love-making. With difficulty she fended off his strong arms, appreciating again the beautiful corded pattern of thick veins running under his smooth skin.
“Now remember that I’ll call you later and let you know where to meet us after work,” she said, straightening her shirt and reaching for a lightweight jacket. “Don’t miss me too much.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go out and get a haircut this afternoon. Then I’ll pick up something to cook for dinner.”
Jo hadn’t seen Brenda since they rented a van and moved Jo’s personal belongings into her new apartment. They still spoke on the phone, almost every day, but so far Jo had discouraged Brenda’s repeated attempts to invite herself up for another visit. Now, it seemed, the Vancouver office required her physical presence.
Jo doubted the office needed Brenda to appear in the flesh. Instead, she knew it was more likely that Brenda needed to see her. A few days earlier, when Jo had told her about Luc’s visit, Brenda had grown uncharacteristically quiet on her end of the line. Then she said she was coming up. She had arrived the night before, informing Jo that not only did she want to see her at the office, she wanted to meet Luc as well. Jo didn’t know how to refuse her best friend, after all she’d done for her.
They shared a slightly uncomfortable reunion and worked through the afternoon alongside the other staff. The Vancouver office ran smoothly, thanks to Jo’s management skills, and Brenda didn’t really have much to do. Several times Jo caught her friend looking at her.
Brenda said she looked fabulous, and Jo, lying, returned the compliment. Brenda seemed less well-groomed than usual. She’d gained weight and her hair showed the first streaks of grey.
“So you’ve managed to find him,” Brenda said, finally.
“Yes.” Jo didn’t want to offer up any more information.
“And are you happy?” Brenda asked, more softly, this time.
Jo turned to her, afraid she might cry. “I am, Bren. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”
“And how long do you think this is going to last?” Brenda’s voice had regained its harshness.
“I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m not going to think about it,” Jo said. “I’m just treating each day as a gift.”
“You’re going to get hurt. You know that, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But it’ll have been worth it. And I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s too personal.”
“Well excuse me for caring,” Brenda said with heavy sarcasm in her voice. “He’d better be worth it. That’s all I can say.”
They got back to work, but a few minutes later Jo reopened the subject herself. “Uh, Bren? I haven’t told him yet that I saw him in Ronda.”
Brenda’s head swiveled around to stare at Jo. “And you’re telling me this why?”
“So you don’t mention it to him. Accidentally, I mean. Please don’t.”
Brenda turned back to the photos she was ranking. Then she asked, “And I suppose he doesn’t know anything about Danny, either?”
Jo knew she was still angry at the way she’d dismissed Danny the moment she’d accidentally spied her lover on the street in Ronda. “No. I haven’t mentioned being in Spain at all.”
Brenda gave her a I-think-you’re-nuts look, but said only, “Fine. Don’t worry. No problem.”
At four o’clock Jo called Luc and asked him to meet her and Brenda in the lounge of the Four Seasons Hotel for a drink.
He was punctual. Jo felt her heart ram upwards into her throat when she saw her tall, well-dressed, impeccably groomed, drop-dead-gorgeous French lover walk into the room, looking so good he caused a waitress to almost tip her loaded tray into a stand of palm trees. He politely took Brenda’s hand in his as Jo introduced them to each other, then he pulled up a chair and ordered another round of drinks.
Brenda, like their waitress, seemed flustered at first. She couldn’t stop staring at him. Then, after starting on her second gin and tonic, she began to show herself.
“You’re a big one, aren’t you?”
Jo almost choked on her drink. Luc didn’t respond, except to raise an eyebrow.
“So. How long’re you stayin’?” Brenda almost slurred her words.
Luc looked at her evenly. “I’m flying home the day after tomorrow.”
Jo blanched. Now that he’d said it, the inevitability of his departure seemed tragic. She knew what Brenda was about to do, and she blocked her. “We’ve really been enjoying the penthouse. Being so close to the park, and the beaches. All those great restaurants, too.” She stole a look at Luc, who seemed calm against her nervousness. “Tonight we’ve made reservations for Thai food,” she lied. “For seven, so we can’t stay long.”
Brenda stared at her in silence, then said, “I hope you’ll be inviting me to stay with you next time I’m in town. I hate this place,” she added, waving a hand around the beautiful room.
Then she turned to Luc and smiled what Jo knew was her poisonous smile. “And I hope you’ll enjoy your visit with our sweet Joanna, Lucien. It’s been very good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. Now tell me, what exactly do archaeologists do, these days?”
Chapter Fifteen
Jo and Luc’s last full day together was spent quietly. That evening they planned dinner at a popular Italian eatery on Robson Street. It would be their last night, and neither had brought up the sensitive subject of what was going to happen next.
Jo found herself dropping things as she tried to pin up her thick hair. Nothing was cooperating—not her hair, nor the pins, and the damned mirror kept tilting the wrong way.
She was scared. The ache in her belly had started the night before, after Luc had shared some rather harsh observations of Brenda. He was right, of course. Brenda had been rude. Boorish, even. They couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
But Jo felt bad for her friend. Brenda loved her. And she still loved Brenda, but not as much as she did before Ronda. Things between them had changed after that. Jo had withdrawn, and Brenda mourned. But not in sad way. In a mean way.
At the moment, though, Jo had more important losses to consider. Luc was scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon, yet he hadn’t said a word about when they’d see each other again.
Is he waiting for me? Do I need to invite him to come back? Or should I invite myself to France?
She winced as she stabbed a hairpin into her scalp. Then she cursed when the nozzle of her hairspray clogged. Finally, her hair sort of up there, and her makeup as good as it was going to get, she walked into her closet and unwrapped one of her most elegant cocktail dresses. It was black—all sheerness and lace insets and low-necked—and fit like it had been made for her alone. It fell to just below the knee, but slits on the sides showed a lot of sexy leg.
She slipped it over her best black lingerie and stepped into a pair of shiny black stilettos. Her jewelry was simple—crystal drop earrings and her favorite George Jensen gold bracelet, the one her father gave her for her twenty-first birthday, were all she needed. She checked herself over in the full-length mirror before presenting herself.
She may have looked great, but she felt terrible. Her eyes threatened to fill with tears, and she had to fight to control the quaver in her voice when she walked into the bedroom, and seeing Luc immaculate in his dark suit, blurted, “You look beautiful.”
He really did.
His face lit up when he saw her. Then he echoed, “You look beautiful.�
� He encircled her in his arms, careful not to disturb her hair, and kissed her lip-sticked mouth gently.
Jo called a cab and they went out to eat.
Being in a crowded, stuffy restaurant didn’t do anything to help her feel better. She drank a little Prosecco, but when her endive salad arrived she didn’t think she could eat it. The slippery greens were unpleasantly sour in her mouth, and her throat threatened to close.
It’s like that first meal I shared with Luc. In Souillac. When I was so nervous I got drunk and had to go to bed.
She managed to wash down a few more mouthfuls with the wine, but then she set her fork aside.
But this is completely different. It might be our last meal.
A lump swelled in her throat, and her mouth filled with too much saliva.
Luc didn’t seem to be enjoying his food either. His buffalo mozzarella salad was artfully arranged on his plate, but he was spending more time lining up the slices than he was eating.
“What’s wrong, mon amor?” he asked when Jo pushed back her chair and put her napkin up to her lips. “Don’t you like your salad?”
“I’m sure it’s very good, but I don’t feel well. Excuse me for a minute.” She swallowed hard, got up and walked to the Ladies as quickly as her heels would allow.
Once inside she vomited bits of stringy greens and a lot of bile. She hadn’t eaten much that day, and now she knew why. She was afraid. She’d been afraid since the night before.
This is the end. And I can’t bear it. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
Tears threatened to ruin her carefully applied makeup, and she blotted them as best she could. Then she took some deep breaths and forced herself to buck up.
This is ridiculous. I have to tell him how I feel. Swallow my pride and tell him that I want him to take me home with him. Or have him stay here with me. Either way, we have to be together…
Her head was spinning with details as she carefully made her way back to the table and sat down.